


Vongola VX: Untitled

by Bleach_ed_Na_tsu



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: F/M, Next Generation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu/pseuds/Bleach_ed_Na_tsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vongola 15th is on the run. Since the Decimo generation’s time Vongola had been causing chaos in the Mafia, upturning all the norms and traditions, not to mention defying the Vindicare and Cerevello, causing the two superpowers to lose their hold on the mafia. Vongola Quindecimo has known for a while someone is after him, but when he is attacked while hiding in Japan he needs to make a move to save his famiglia. First move, find his guardians. Contains OC. Collab fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vongola VX: Untitled

**Author's Note:**

> This is a collab between myself and my two FFN friends. You can all blame Darkened Shadowed Dragon (who is an awesome author) and my friend Hitomi(who hasn’t posted anything, yet) for this new story, they have been helping me develop the plot and all the OC. So you can thank and harass them ^^ You can blame Dragon-chan especially for putting this idea in my head after showing me an image.

“…-’ll be careful, Yoshimune.”  
“I can’t promise anything. You know that, fratello.”  
After the phone clicked off, the foreign language died off in a smooth lacquer of allure. The speaker was not exactly alone on the roof where he had taken his call, but seeing as he had been taking the call during break most of the other students ignored him; seeing as he was speaking a foreign language it wasn’t surprising that they were wary.  
His nimble hands ran through his hair, a fairly light brown and an obvious sign that he wasn’t particularly native to the country despite the blood in his veins.   
“Be careful, ne?” he sighed, face monotonous.  
Staring at the sky, almost put out by the fact that the pure azure was disturbingly empty- not a cloud nor a storm in sight- the light brunet boy leaned against the fence that kept him from falling to the ground, not that a four story fall would do much to him anyway. The sky did not reflect what his mind knew was happening. His eyes seemed to file away and categorise everything the caller had told him. Clear brown eyes, just the dark side of hazel frowned where his face did not.  
Italy was rumbling in unease. Something was coming, fast.  
Yoshimune was not happy about that.  
“Baka-YOSHI!” suddenly a sharp outburst assaulted the monotonous teens left ear as a short girl tore through the stairwell to the roof. “You’re late, again! Get your ass downstairs.”  
Yoshimune, also called Yoshi by his closest friend, ran a hand through his brown hair; it was longer than most of the boys in the class, the ends touching his jaw at the longest strands and the rest in different layers, going across his eyes and face attractively. His face was blank even as his eyes burned with indignation. “Control yourself, Neko-chan. I’m coming now.”  
Yoshi wanted to laugh as he watched the girl’s metaphorical hackles rise, and he ignored her indignant spitting as he skipped down the stairs in his controlled way. Being on so many sports teams had its advantages.  
“So what happened this time?” ‘Neko-chan’ asked as she fell into step beside Yoshi. Her strides were double his as the shorter girl tried to keep up with the slightly better than average boy.  
‘Neko-chan’ wasn’t really the girl’s name, as ‘Yoshi’ was not really the boy’s name. But after too many years together to count, Yoshi and Neko had fallen into friendly banter and comfortable amounts of teasing.

[Flashback]  
Yoshi had arrived in Japan on his own when he was in elementary school. He had stayed with his Fratello for a few years to settle him, but the man had other duties and once he was sure his little brother could cope on his own, he had left back for Italy.  
On the day of his transfer to the local elementary school, Yoshimune was introduced to the class. Their teacher; an elderly woman who retired two years later, assured the nervous and curious children that Yoshimune could speak perfect Japanese, and that they should help him settle into Japan as he had lived in Italy beforehand.  
“My name is Sawada Yoshimune. I’m in your care.” he had bowed a little in greeting, looking across the students analytically.  
The boy didn’t crack a single smile or a nervous frown during the entire introduction. It made a lot of the children worry because of his strange blankness. Even at such a young age though, Yoshimune was commanding and no one could really question him.  
“Sawada-kun, you can go sit by Fujimoto-chan.” Said child raised her hand and Yoshimune silently made his way to the empty seat beside her.  
“Nice to meet you Sawada-kun, I’m Fujimoto Koneko.” She grinned, all teeth. However, the boy next to her did not spare her more than a quick calculating glance.  
The little girl was just that, little. She was short and all limbs. She was lean too with a small nose and small hands. Her hair was straight and blonde, tied up in a pile on her hair in a way that told Yoshi that the girl didn’t like having long hair.  
“Oi! I’m talking to you!” Koneko shouted in a whisper. Yoshi continued to ignore her, watching the teacher get back to her lesson.  
“Oi!”  
For the proceeding weeks Koneko continued to goad the silent boy into aggression. Her own temper rising whenever he was around. However, he was not a silent boy, he was silently-loud. He spoke only when made to speak and he kept to himself for the most part; neither standing out nor fading into the crowd, but when he did speak he became the centre of attention and people listened. Even if he never cracked a smile, nor showed much more emotion than a smugness in his body language, Koneko was calmed whenever he turned to her and proved that her goading would never get him to retaliate.  
Once Koneko had latched onto Yoshi, intrigued and infuriated by the boy, she didn’t leave his side; within the year they were inseparable. They caused chaos –well Koneko caused the chaos –mischief, and turned heads everywhere they went. Everyone in the school knew who they were, and though neither of them made any other true friends, everyone was drawn to Yoshi’s calm and commanding aura, and trusted Koneko’s straightforward strength.  
As they went through school both diverged, Koneko took up martial arts and drama, and Yoshimune made a quick name for himself as the youngest captain of the soccer team their school had in a long time. Everyone still remembered and was drawn to that bordering-on-cold calmness Yoshi exuded, and even if he was rare to smile and frown, everyone knew what he intended to express.   
Even with the differing hobbies, both Yoshi and Neko were always seen together outside of extracurricular activities. They could also always be found at each other’s tournaments; both would look slightly embarrassed when asked and ‘I was passing by’ was always their answer when questioned; even when the tournaments were in a completely different district.  
[End flashback]

Koneko hadn’t changed much since their childhood, despite filling out –as he had –during puberty. She was still short, collar height to him (though he was slightly better than average), she had cut her hair to just barely below her chin, and bright, brown eyes full of instinctive fire. Her temper had roared during the years, and the fuse to the detonation hadn’t lengthened any. She was a pretty girl, he would admit, but she was quick to the chase, and that was one of her greater weaknesses; one Yoshi was sure she’d never truly overcome.  
“Fratello is worried. There’s a lot of mess not only in Italy, but it’s bleeding in from the east, and they think the Yakuza and Triad are trying to ban together.”  
Yoshi was sure that no one was listening in, but when they were together it was always wise to be excessively diligent.  
Trying not to let the surprise filter into her voice at her friend’s sudden change of language, Koneko slipped into Italian herself. Her pronunciation and tone were not quite right, it was obvious she was not a native Italian speaker, but her progress made Yoshi’s lips twitch slightly. “He thinks they’re coming here?”  
“He doesn’t know. He said to keep our guard up, made me promise to stay safe, the idiota.” Neko could hear the scoff in his voice, but it was a fond tone despite that. “He’s not telling me the whole truth though.”  
“Intuition?”  
“Could it be anything else?” he laughed out before straightening his face back into the familiar coolness as their classroom door approached on the left.  
As the two entered the classroom, sliding the rear door open smoothly not one other student noticed their slightly heavy emotions, or the seriousness clogging Koneko’s usually instinctive and flaming brown hues.  
“Sawada, Fujimoto! Why are you two late?!” their teacher was young man, Hugh-sensei, having only become a full time educator the year before the pair of students started high school.  
Before Koneko could respond in her usual explosive rage, Yoshi stepped in front of her and smoothly interjected with his usual air of leadership; something that pissed Koneko off to no ends. If she could complain about any of Yoshi’s shortcomings, his leadership was not one of them.  
“I’m sorry, for our lateness, sir; I had an important call from my Mother and Father. I haven’t heard from them for a while and today was the only time they could get out of work for me.”  
His acting was impeccable, and thought the lie was only half faked; Yoshi was able to place the right amount of guilt and reasonability in his voice. He and Koneko were known for their closeness since Yoshi’s arrival in their third year of elementary, so Yoshi’s speech included her even without mention.  
After a pause their sensei sighed and motioned to their neighbouring seats at the back corner of the class. “I understand your extenuating circumstances, Sawada, but please stop making it such a routine. You education is important, as I’m sure you understand.”  
As he took his seat Yoshi saw Koneko roll her eyes before taking on a more worried look as she looked over at her friend.  
Extenuating circumstances my ass he read in her expression. We’re mafia.  
Mafia, by definition that’s the hierarchically structured secret organisation allegedly engaged in smuggling, and trafficking of narcotics and humans as well as other criminal activities. There was more to it, and traditionally all this was true. The mafia was a disgusting, dangerous place; it was everywhere at any and all times. It was inescapable and enveloping.  
Yoshi didn’t like to think of himself as Mafia though because of his particular famiglia and upbringing, and Koneko enjoyed the term of identification even less so. While Yoshi was born and bred into the bloodline that was as old as the mafia itself, Koneko had been a civilian until four years ago when she had stumbled upon Yoshi being cornered by a group of well-dressed men all gunning to kill him.

[Flashback]  
Yoshi and Koneko had been twelve, and though you wouldn’t expect it, he was the strongest of his entire school. He was monotonous and could be rather cold –colder than he was now –but that didn’t stop people from trying to get to know him. That didn’t mean however, that people actually did.  
Koneko Fujimoto was probably Yoshi’s only friend, and as such she was always annoyed and intrigued by Yoshi’s aloof popularity. On that afternoon Koneko had club activities, and for once Yoshi was free; no baseball, soccer –for which he was captain –or martial arts.  
“Sorry, Yoshi.” Koneko had said guiltily. “I’m really needed by the girls today. I’ll be at yours for dinner though.”  
Koneko was a member of the girls’ mixed-martial-arts team. Though she didn’t officially have a position of power, all the girls –including their seniors –respected her and often didn’t get anything done without Koneko’s sharp tongue and no-shit-from-you attitude.  
“It’s not a problem, Neko. You know that.” Yoshi sighed, picking up his back and walking towards the door. “You don’t have to come to dinner either if you’d rather eat with your dad.”  
Neko had sighed to herself, but ignored Yoshi’s comment before reconfirming that she would see Yoshi at ‘home’. “I expect dinner to be ready too, MMA is tiring.” She couldn’t cook for gold, and Yoshi –because he lived on his own –had developed quite the portfolio of delicious recipes. Neko’s dad was also a hard-ass and Koneko rarely spent time with him; her mom worked in America eight months of the year.  
Practice had been hard, but they were using Koneko’s favourite weapon, and the routine was one she knew better than the back of her hand. So she wasn’t too annoyed at her kohai not being able to catch up. She gave them a tongue-lashing, but it wasn’t as tough as usual.  
Twirling her weapon in her hands because she couldn’t be bothered dropping it in the storage unit, Koneko passed by the only part of town that she would rather avoid. That night she was glad she didn’t though. A blond boy stood with his back towards one end of the street, a bored expression on his face, surrounding him were six large, burly men all dressed inexpensive suits, and though her Italian wasn’t excellent at twelve, Koneko recognised that the men had violent intentions.  
When Koneko realised that it was Yoshi standing amongst the men, well the girl had her own violent intentions.  
Neko, as per usual had seen the thugs, and despite knowing that Yoshi was neither panicked, nor needed her help, had charged straight in, using the staff she used in her mixed martial arts, and had taken the closest thug out with a few quick thwaps. When she landed on the downed man, she was grinning; when she saw Yoshi’s sigh of frustration she almost turned her staff on the not-quite-blond.  
“I didn’t need your help, Neko-chan.” Yoshi hummed, ignoring the shouts of protest from the men surrounding him –they had taken a step back at the small girl’s entrance.  
“Baka-Yoshi! That’s not how you thank your friend for saving your ass.” She swung her staff in frustration, narrowly missing the boy she had just ‘saved’.  
While she was still swinging her staff around, Koneko hadn’t noticed a man sneak up behind her, and when she did her eyes were frozen on Yoshi’s face. The boy had paled and his eyes had widened uncharacteristically large. When she turned, she had felt tears burn in her brown eyes when she saw the revolver pointed at her head.  
“Y-yoshi?”  
Koneko had closed her eyes, tears falling from pure fear. All she was aware of, as she thought of her and her friend dying, was a rush of wind and the burn of warmth that just barely touched her cheek. Then there were loud shouts and wet slaps on the ground. Then there was silence.  
She opened her eyes to a scene that would both haunt and assure her for most of her life-time. Yoshi stood in the centre of the men, but now they were all floored and surrounded by various amounts of viscous red. The boy himself looked unscathed, and an aura of pure orange was dissipating around him.  
Yoshi turned to Koneko, and her breathe hitched when he saw her young friend’s eyes. They were the purest, most brilliant orange she had ever seen; they blazed like fire, and there were no lamps around them to cause such an illusion.  
“Let’s go home.” Yoshi’s voice was back to cold indifference.  
“…home?” Koneko’s was not so controlled.  
“Yes. Let’s get you home.” this time there was a tiny shake.  
Shaking herself out of her stupor, Koneko’s usually present emotion boiled to the surface, trying to block the fear and panic that threatened to overwhelm her instead.  
She was surrounded by bodies, and had a gun pointed at her, after all.  
“You better tell me what that was right now, Yoshimune!” Koneko’s eyes were full of fury, her friend acted as if he had seen it all before, had been dealing with it through his life. She didn’t understand, and she voiced as such, “Why were those men after you; they had real guns, Yoshi! They were going to kill us! What the hell is up with you?! You’re acting like this is normal, like people are trying to kill you all the time!” She almost screamed, panic invading her tone and causing her speech to speed up and become breathless.  
“You don’t need to know, Neko.” Yoshi’s face was still impassive, but there was subtle panic flashing in his eyes, still orange with near death adrenaline. “Just some thugs.”  
“Don’t need to know?!” Koneko seethed, “You’re my friend, and you better tell me so I can kick their asses!”  
“I don’t want you involved, Koneko!” Yoshi’s tone rose enough to have the blonde girl taking a shocked step back. “They were here to kill me, Koneko. This isn’t a fucking joke and you’re a civilian! I’m not letting my friend get into this much danger because she’s a bull-headed fool who can’t see when someone is trying to protect her!”   
All his protests had been for naught though, because Koneko has become silent after his outburst and her eyes had shown a strange kind of sadness and surprise. “I just want to help you, baka. I just want you to trust me, please?”  
“Don’t hate me after this, Koneko.” Yoshi had almost whimpered after a pause, his face dropping into a frown. “Leave if you want, but don’t hate me.”  
[End flashback]

Yoshi never wanted to get the girl involved. He kept up his exterior monotone as a defence for himself and those innocents around him. The roguish girl though, so determined to see beyond that didn’t yield and even once he had explained everything? She just collapsed into his chest crying and punching Yoshi’s chest –‘how could you not tell me, Baka!’; ‘how did this even happen?!’; ‘why is this happening to you?!’ –even then she was still more concerned about her friend than herself. From there they just kept going. Supporting each other; training; and preparing for the inevitable day that Yoshi would be called back into the darkened world he had been hidden from.   
Koneko, despite Yoshi’s verbal and subliminal protests was ready too. She had done everything to be accepted into the Mafia as something unmistakably Mafiosi, besides officially accepting the Vongola ring.  
Lunch couldn’t really have come sooner for the pair, and as Yoshi walked past Koneko, grabbing her back before she could, he walked towards an empty section of the school where they usually ate lunch.  
As Koneko left, shouting after Yoshi she heard sniggers coming from the classroom. “Aw, isn’t Sawada-kun a gentleman.” some of the girls giggled.  
“They might as well make it official already. I’m pretty sure Fujimoto-chan is always around Sawada’s house.” Some of the boys laughed loudly.  
Koneko, trying and failing to stop her heart from thundering blood straight to her face stuck her head back in the classroom much to the surprise of her classmates. “I’d never date that perverted BAKA!” before storming back towards the area that Yoshi was headed.  
Just as Koneko approached the picnic benches set up in the courtyard, a huge gust of wind flew through the area. She grumbled as she grabbed her skirt, and when she looked up she saw a subtle smirk on Yoshi’s lips.  
“Bet you’re glad that you wore those running shorts this morning.”  
It took a moment. The two. Finally Koneko understood what Yoshi was implying before throwing her shoe at the boy, ignoring the fact that her white sock was getting dirty.  
“You perverted bastard. Why were you looking?!” she almost screeched.  
Yoshi, had not been expecting his friend to throw anything, after all he had her bag. So when the shoe came flying at his head he didn’t have enough time to react and it got him straight across the nose.  
“Oi, Neko-chan that hurt!”  
“The stop being so perverted, Baka.”  
“I’m not a pervert; I’m a healthy teenage boy.”   
“Healthy teenage-?!”  
“Besides, I didn’t see your panties, you have shorts on.  
“BAKA. YOSHI. You pervert!!”  
“Excuse me.”  
Just as Neko was about to strangle her hazelnut haired friend, a sempai of theirs appeared, laughing good naturedly. He was tall and lean; his legs were thick and his hair a dark black. His eyes were a strange grey. Instead of the usual uniform, the boy wore the soccer uniform, his red socks pulled up and over the shin-pads visible beneath.  
“I’m sorry to interrupt your lover’s quarrel-“  
“We’re not lovers!!!!”  
“But we need your help Captain.” The second year scratched the back of his head. It was strange to have a first year captain, but the boy had proved himself and had saved the soccer team from being disbanded. They all owed Yoshimune.  
“What’s wrong, Kobayashi-sempai.” Yoshi asked as he stood up, putting his lunch back into his bag. It had only been half out anyway.  
“The sempai are trying to make the first years clean the training room…” he trailed off.  
Yoshi’s eyes frowned as he listened, “Isn’t it their turn this week? The first years have done it for the past two.”  
Despite the fact that Kobayashi was older and not actually the one at fault –he wasn’t co-captain but simply a messenger for him –gulped and tried to look unintimidating. He probably couldn’t have looked intimidating if he tried, he was all limbs and many wondered how the defenseman even stood without falling over himself.  
“They’re not listening to us, even Sasaki-Fukutaichou is having trouble getting them to comply.” The older student fidgeted under the younger boy’s cool gaze. Yoshi never got angry. He never yelled and he was never disappointed outwardly. It was easy for even his Sempai to bow to him because he was simply easy to follow. It was easy to let him lead.  
But he was scary as hell when you did anger him; made worse by the fact that you could never really tell.  
“Alright. Thank you, Kobaya-sempai, let’s go talk to them then.” He looked over at Koneko, who had taken the opportunity to get her shoe back on, “You coming, Neko-chan?”  
Sparing herself the embarrassment, Koneko kept her mouth shut and followed with a nod. Yoshi still had her bag in his hand, but he handed her an onigiri he managed to snag from his lunch box.  
“Can’t let little girls get hungry.” he teased, blank-faced; trying to get the girl to embarrass herself in front of a sempai. It didn’t work, much to his frustration, and Koneko just nibbled on the onigiri as they walked.  
As they walked across the school yard towards the soccer field, which was bordered by the joint field training rooms, Yoshi sighed to himself at the arrogance of the third years. Because it was off season the soccer team only had to share the equipment in the rooms with the football team, and since they were a much bigger team and earned more trophies they already had their own locker-rooms and training equipment. That, and Yoshi had heard that their captain was quite the ‘negotiator’. They would have to share the rooms with track and field when the summer months rolled in.  
There were people gathered on the side of the field, just a few paces from the training rooms, Yoshi could see their small group of first years cowering back as their much taller, and wider sempai tried to enforce rules they had no standing to enforce.  
As soon as the younger students noticed their captain approach a hush fell over them, and the rush sent the second years into muted whispers too.  
“Sawada-taichou.” Yoshi looked over towards the third years to find his vice-captain staring down at the other third-years.   
“Sasaki-fukutaichou-sempai, how are you?” Yoshi asked evenly. He knew how he was doing.  
Sasaki was a stern, rough looking boy. He wasn’t especially tall or wide, but he had strong legs and was one of the fastest on the team; a starting forward that helped Yoshi in the place of the soccer experienced he lacked. He was a good sempai, and once people got over his roguish face, the first years generally trusted him very much. He was also humble, the boy had been nominated as captain but had deferred from the position – and the vice position –until Yoshi basically forced his hand to be vice-captain.  
“Yeah, we’re just peachy.” he ground out, “Ito just decided that the rules don’t apply to him.”  
“Ito-sempai.” he nodded,  
“What do you want runt-taichou?” he sneered.  
“It’s the third years turn to clean the equipment room; the first years have morning circuits this week.”  
“Che, like I’m going to listen to some weakling first year.” Ito laughed roughly. “Just ‘cause you got some luck doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to you; first years are weak and should listen to their sempai.”  
There were chuckles from the six other third years that stood behind Ito, they all agreed with him, though the other third years looked around with unease; they had no issue with a first-year captain who had proved his worth four times over. After all, Ito was the one who almost had the soccer team shut down.  
“Fine.” Yoshi sighed, “If you think first years are so weak I will play a one period match with you; with a team of only first years.”  
Everyone was silent as Yoshi’s monotone words washed across the group. Play the third years with a group of only first years? Sure they had some promising first years, but they weren’t experienced and training had only started a month ago.  
When Ito-sempai began laughing, holding his stomach as the outrageous sound caused tremors in his torso. Then he suddenly stopped. “Fine, when we win you and the first years do the cleaning for the rest of the year.”  
Yoshi turned and looked over at the nervous first years, “Who is willing to play with me?” when half of the first years stepped back he sighed, there was just enough to play with now. “Alright boys, let’s go get changed.”  
When they arrived back, the first years looked calmer but still fidgeted when they saw their sempai stretching out their thicker muscles on the field. They murmured but followed Yoshi, assured that he knew what he was doing; none of them even questioning why they trusted Yoshi so.  
“Kobayashi-sempai, would you please be referee?”  
The tall boy nodded and picked up the ball, he walked to the centre with both the first-year and third-year team following, though Ito-sempai tried to goad and intimidate Yoshi the captain just looked ahead, he sighed imperceptibly through his nose as the older boy tried to throw him off; it was pathetic for such a strong boy to resort to such things.  
Yoshi stood as left wing, he watched the ball get stolen from them within the first thirty seconds, but he wasn’t put out. They’d win; he had faith in his team.  
It was obvious as the boys ran around, passing, tackling, dodging and scoring that the third years had the upper hand. They were all bigger, and had more experience than ten of the eleven first years. Yoshi being the exception due to his stamina training. However, they were not being forced into a corner as everyone had expected.  
“What is Sawada-taichou thinking?”  
“He’s so stupid, Ito-sempai is going to win and we’re going to end up cleaning for the rest of the season.”  
“Bakas!” Koneko shouted, and all the whispers silenced, everyone knew about Koneko’s harsh tongue and her steely temper. If she was speaking, you shut your mouth or else she would have you. “Yoshi knows what he’s doing; I thought you brats had faith in your captain.”  
When she was met with owlish, scared, blinks Koneko sighed and crossed her arms.   
Stupid Koneko, why would they listen to you? You’re just a loud-mouthed bratty girl to them.  
She continued watching as both teams scored in quick succession, first the third years, then Yoshi, then the third years, then Yoshi, and with a third point for the third years, Koneko expected Yoshi to charge forward to even the points; she was surprised when the smallest boy of Yoshi’s ten teammates, Mori-kun, sprinted forward and stole the ball right from the left wing’s feet, he scored of course –to everyone’s surprise –and with the match nearing its end Koneko worried that it’d go into overtime.  
“I don’t know if the first years’ stamina will last.” Sasaki-fukutaichou sighed from beside Koneko; the older boy had refused to face his captain.  
“Baka-Yoshi will be fine.” she responded in defence of her friend. Sure he looked hot and bothered, but she knew Yoshi wouldn’t be floored by this kind of light workout.  
“Even if he’s some kind of stamina monster, one man can’t win a match.”  
Koneko would have responded if she hadn’t heard the shocked gasps of the other members around her. “Isn’t that….Nakajima-kun?” One of the second years asked in shock. Nakajima was the most timid and probably weakest member of the team.  
But even as they watched him steal the ball, and locking eyes with Yoshi launched it half way across the field to where Yoshi had been waiting at the net; as if knowing the boy’s next move.  
Yoshi watched the ball approach quickly, surprised that the small boy had such power in his legs. As he moved into position Yoshi leant back and before one of the larger defenseman could react flipped around in a high-bicycle kick that sent the ball careening past the goal-keeper’s head and straight into the back of the net. The goal-keeper turned, wide eyed, at the ball and the Kobayashi blew the whistle. With a score of 4-3 Yoshi and his team of first years won hands down, and the sempai looked on with a mix of fury and embarrassment.  
Dusting himself off, Yoshi stood in front of the sempai who had tried to bully his other members. “I don’t care if you think I’m undeserving of the captain position; you’re free to challenge me all you like.” Yoshi began, staring into the shocked brown eyes of all eleven third year boys with a cold heaviness they were unused to seeing in a first yet, “But, I won’t tolerate bullying on this team. So you can either follow my rules, while I’m still captain, or you can leave. We are teammates Sempai, and I don’t put rules in place just to rub it into your face that I’m a first year.”  
With that Yoshi looked over the other members of his team and nodded, “Good job, boys. You did very well, but you need to work hard if you want to improve.” the first years looked on in awe before nodding excitedly.  
Just like that, Yoshi walked back to the changing room to get out of his PE-shots and cleats, he didn’t even look back to see Ito staring at him as if he were some enigma.  
“Well, back to class, Yoshi.” Koneko sighed, picking up both hers and Yoshi’s bag as Yoshi stepped out of the locker room with his trousers and school shoes back in place.  
Yoshi yawned, but didn’t give any other reply, just following Koneko and half-listening to her rant about how he could improve his speed and how he needed to whip those sempai into shape more than a pathetic tongue-lashing. But Yoshi was only half listening, hungry, and tired. He didn’t notice Koneko smiling as she spoke, because really; Yoshi was a good leader.  
xxxxxxx  
Koneko stood from her seat once the teacher had left; she straightened her skirt before she moved to stand in front of Yoshi’s seat. The hazelnut headed boy was snoozing lightly; they had just had English, and given Yoshi’s training the boy didn’t need to study the subject. After putting a teacher into his place, speaking riddles in near-perfect English around the man in Yoshi’s first year of middle school all their English teachers generally gave Yoshi his space during the lesson.   
He handed in all his work one time and never once had he made fun of the other students for mispronunciation or misinterpretation, so it was fine to leave him to his napping.  
“Ba-ka!” Koneko dropped Yoshi’s notebook onto his head and the boy startled awake. “Time to go home.”  
After a moment to wake up, Yoshi nodded and stood. He slid his unused textbook back into his desk before grabbing his bag and leading Koneko out. “You invading my house again, Neko-chan?” Yoshi asked as they walked down the street towards both Neko and Yoshi’s homes.  
“Dad’s out with some of his mates, so you bet. What’s for dinner?” She grinned happily, knowing she was in for something tasty.  
“I see.” Yoshi hummed. “Does the little kitty want tuna then and some milk to grow nice and tall?”  
Yoshi made a quick movement to get in front of Koneko as he watched his statement sink into the slower girl’s brain. He watched red creep into her cheeks before she was sprinting after him, looking to want to assault him with her school bag.  
“I am not a cat, Baka-Yoshi!!”


End file.
